The Inns and Outs of Partnerships
by GilmoreWomen
Summary: Picks up where ‘The Not So Silent Partner’ left off. How will Lorelai and Emily deal with working side by side every day? By WhreofBabylon, OldFashionedGrl, and UnaVitaSegreta. A Lorelai and Emily story that features both Emily & Richard and Lorelai & Luk
1. Take Your Mother to Work Day

**_Take Your Mother to Work Day_**

Lorelai stood at the front desk of the Dragonfly Inn, sipping her coffee and taking in the magnificent quiet that surrounded her. The Inn was at capacity. It was the start of what promised to be a very busy week with several large parties, the search for a new chef, and not to mention the addition of her mother to the mix. All the more reason to enjoy this brief calm before the looming storm, she thought, as she began flipping through the thick book of sample wedding invitations she'd borrowed from the printer this morning on her way to work.

By the time she was halfway through the large volume and still nothing had really caught her eye, her good mood was slipping away. They were all either to blah, too flowery, or just too ugly. She continued to page through the book, rejecting one style after another with a series of grunts and sighs. If they were going to get them printed and ready to send out in time, she really should find something in the next couple of days.

"Good morning, Lorelai," Emily cheerily greeted her daughter as she entered the lobby from the back of the Inn.

"Morning," Lorelai replied halfheartedly as she flipped over another page of stationary samples.

Emily walked around to the back of the check-in desk. "I put my coat and handbag in your office. I hope that's okay."

"That's fine," she answered turning her attention back to the book.

"Wedding invitations?" Emily asked, stepping closer to Lorelai.

"Yeah, I really need to get the order in right away," Lorelai explained, "actually, I should have had it in last week."

Emily glanced at the book. "Is that glitter?" she asked, a note of disgust in her voice

Lorelai laughed sarcastically. "Oh, there are worse. Trust me." She picked up a pad of post-it notes to mark her place and flipped back closer to the beginning of the book.

"Oh my God!" Emily exclaimed in horror. "Are those supposed to be cherubs?"

Lorelai laughed at her mother's reaction. "I guess so."

Emily bent closer to get a better look. "They're positively lewd."

"Yeah, I think they might even glow in the dark too," Lorelai added.

Emily focused her attention back to Lorelai. "I don't see how a printer that would stock something like this could possibly have an invitation you'd want to use."

"I'm coming to that conclusion myself," Lorelai sighed as she returned to her previous place in the book and scanned the next page. "This one isn't horrible," she said indicating a simple off-white rectangular invitation with raised hearts in the corners.

"No, it's not horrible," Emily agreed unenthusiastically.

They continued to look through the book together. "This one's okay." Lorelai pointed out another one a few pages later. It was a white invitation with a silver border around it.

"It's plain, but pretty," Emily observed trying very hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice. It seemed like Lorelai was settling and she didn't want her daughter to have to settle for anything less than the absolute best on her wedding day.

Lorelai turned the page again and quietly 'oohed' as she reached out and ran her fingertips gently over the invitation she'd just seen. It was white on white. The top layer was an opaque velum that held the printing and the bottom a white cardstock with a pale snowflake pattern embossed on it in pearlized white. It was just barely iridescent and the effect through the overlay gave the snowflakes the faintest hit of a shimmer. The lining of the inner envelope contained the same snowflake pattern and the outside envelope had a raised snowflake simply embossed on the flap. Excitedly, Lorelai turned to her mother and asked, "What do you think?"

Emily took a moment to consider her answer. For the better part of her daughter's life anytime she had said she liked something Lorelai instantaneously hated it, and she didn't want this to be another of those times. It was a beautiful invitation. It was easy to see how much Lorelai liked it. She hesitated a moment too long though and watched the sparkle leave her daughter's eyes.

"You don't like it," Lorelai stated flatly.

Emily made a split second decision and hoped it was the right one. "No, I do. It really is lovely, Lorelai. I think it's just perfect for a winter wedding."

"You do?" Lorelai asked in disbelief.

Emily gave her daughter a reassuring smile. "I was just surprised for a moment that we both liked the same one."

"Yeah, doesn't happen very often, does it?" Lorelai chuckled lightly.

"Why don't you go to the printer and see how quickly they can have them ready?" Emily suggested.

"I can't. I promised to help Sookie this morning. She's coming in to interview possible chefs."

"You know," Emily offered tentatively, "I could do that."

Lorelai shook her head, "Mom – "

Emily cut her off, "I am here to help you. Your wedding is important and if, as you say, those invitations should have been ordered last week, you need to get that done." Lorelai opened her mouth to speak again but Emily raised her hand to stop her. "Lorelai, your wedding is very important and you shouldn't let that suffer because you don't trust me to do things for you here."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Lorelai countered.

Emily raised a questioning eyebrow as she drew out the single syllable, "No."

Lorelai opened her mouth slightly but couldn't think of a quick way out.

"How many chefs is Sookie meeting?" Emily asked trying to determine how important Lorelai's involvement was this morning.

"I don't know; she didn't really tell me," Lorelai answered with a shrug.

"Well, are these her first meetings? Is she bringing in more after this? Does she plan to have them cook?"

"I don't know," Lorelai replied meekly.

"Well, from what I know of Sookie, I'm sure she has a plan to narrow the field. This is probably just the first round of interviews. You'll still have input before the final decision is made," Emily reasoned.

"I guess," Lorelai conceded reluctantly. "You're probably right. I'm sure Sookie has a plan. I just want to be sure that I meet this person she wants to hire before we actually hire them. I mean, I'm the one that will have to deal with them on a daily basis."

Emily smiled at her small victory. "I think that sounds very reasonable." She picked up the sample book and handed it to Lorelai. "Now, why don't you return this book and go order those invitations?"

Lorelai took the book and picked up her purse, allowing Emily to steer her out from behind the desk. "Sookie will be here soon for the interviews. The library is closed off, so she can hold them in there. Let Michel deal with any reservations. If there are any problems, just call my cell. If you have any questions, just call my cell."

"Lorelai, everything will be fine," Emily reassured her.

"But if it's not, just – "

"I'll call your cell," Emily finished her daughter's sentence as she walked her to the door.

* * *

Sookie hurried down the hallway of the Inn and toward the lobby, a thick binder clutched in her arms along with several file folders and loose papers, all of which looked in danger of falling on the floor at any moment. She stopped in the doorway and turned toward the front desk where Michel was standing. "Where's Lorelai?" she asked frantically.

"She is not here," Michel replied simply and returned his attention to the computer screen in front of him. "Leaves me to deal with everything as usual," he muttered to himself.

Sookie was unphased by his mutterings. "Where is she?"

Emily walked up behind the frazzled former chef. "Good morning, Sookie."

"Emily!" Sookie spun around and the top two files went flying, scattering papers on the floor.

"Why don't you give me those?" Emily suggested, gesturing to the binder and files in the younger woman's hands. Sookie complied and then bent down to gather up the stray papers while Emily straightened the stack in her hands. "Lorelai went out to take care of some wedding preparations. She thought you could use the library for your interviews."

"Um… okay." Sookie rose slowly and followed Emily into the library. Emily placed Sookie's things down on a round wooden table and turned to leave. "Actually, why don't you stay? I'm sure you're an expert at hiring staff." Sookie sat down and began to look through the mass of papers. "I'd really like your input."

"Well, if you're sure," Emily replied sitting down next to Sookie at the table. "When does the first applicant arrive?"

"Ten o'clock," Sookie answered as she turned the paper she was studying right side up and nodded.

Emily checked her watch. "That gives us about fifteen minutes. How many people are you seeing today?"

Sookie sighed. "Eight. I just couldn't make up my mind. They all sounded so qualified. I was hoping that one would just click, you know?"

"Well, I suppose, but I think perhaps we should come up with a system for rating them in different categories, such as cuisine, kitchen management experience, flexibility with menu items for special events."

Sookie nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, that sounds perfect."

"Now let's see what we have here." Emily reached for Sookie's files and made quick work of sorting them into orderly piles.

* * *

Lorelai entered the kitchen and headed straight for the coffeemaker. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sookie flipping through a red binder. "I'm sorry I missed the interviews," she apologized while pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"No worries, Hon," Sookie replied distractedly as she studied the book then called out, "Four vegetarians this week, Javier. I think you should make the asparagus soufflé tonight. The shiitakes for the mushroom risotto will keep 'til tomorrow. I'll leave you an outline for the rest of the week before I go."

"Really, I thought I'd be back in time for at least some of the appointments," Lorelai checked her watch.

Sookie glanced up from the binder and flipped the page. "It's okay, really. You mother was fantastic. We knocked those interviews out like that!" She emphasized her statement with a snap of her fingers.

Lorelai nodded, a smirk on her face. "Ate 'em alive, didn't she?"

"No. Not at all."

"I really didn't think it would take so long at the printers, but who knew there were so many damn fonts? Then the ink. There are seven different shades of black. How is that possible?"

"Really, Lorelai. Your Mom had it covered," Sookie insisted.

"I'm sorry I stuck you with her. I bet she took over the whole thing, didn't she?"

"I couldn't have done it without her. We've got it narrowed down to the top three who will come in and prepare a selection of dishes. We're going to see how they work with the kitchen staff as well as what their food tastes like."

"Well that makes sense," Lorelai agreed over the rim of her coffee cup before downing half the contents.

Sookie shook her head. "I wanted to taste their food, of course, but the whole idea of having them work with our people, that was all Emily."

Lorelai turned and topped off her coffee.

"Vegans!" Sookie exclaimed. "You've got vegans booked for the weekend," she said accusingly.

Lorelai cringed. "Sorry."

"I thought we agreed no more vegans. Ever!"

"Sookie, we cannot discriminate against vegans," Lorelai replied.

"Yes! Yes, we can. How can you be expected to cook without eggs or dairy? I mean come on! Those whackos won't even eat honey. I ask you, how does that hurt the bees?"

"Sookie, I have confidence in you," Lorelai smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "I know you'll come up with something wonderful that Javier and his team can put together."

Sookie took a deep cleansing breath. "You know, this" she pointed to the offending vegan reservations, "I do not miss."

"Hey, just think, the sooner you hire the new chef, the sooner you'll be rid of vegans worries," Lorelai added supportively as she exited the kitchen.

Sookie kept grumbling. "Don't know what's matter with these stupid, twig-eating tree huggers…"

* * *

Lorelai emerged from the kitchen and heard raised voices coming from the front of the inn.

Michel was almost yelling, "You did not seriously think you could just walk out the door with our book tucked under your arm?"

"Are you accusing me of stealing?" a female voice replied.

"I most certainly am," Michel countered. "That copy of _The Mermaid Chair_ belongs to the Dragonfly Inn. I can prove it. Just look at the dust jacket. There is a tiny tear on the back just below the UPC code.

"How exactly does that prove anything?" the woman demanded. "You're staring at the back cover right now."

Just as Lorelai rounded the corner into the lobby, Emily stepped between the two combatants. "May I be of assistance?" she asked with an air of authority mixed with a calm tone and warm smile, which were quickly noticed by the outraged guest.

"This man has just accused me of stealing a book," the woman explained.

"I'm sure there must be some sort of misunderstanding," Emily said smoothly. "Isn't that right, Michel?"

"I'm tired of guests that think they can just walk off with any book they like. I was going to read that," he pointed to the book currently clutched in the guest's hand.

Emily fixed Michel with a withering look while maintaining a serene smile. "That is a very popular book. Don't you think you could be mistaken?" Michel opened his mouth clearly about to protest again. Emily's chin jutted slightly forward and her eyes became even steelier as she looked at him. "Michel."

Michel closed his mouth and contemplated the situation for a moment, glancing between the now gloating guest and the glaring Emily Gilmore, briefly admiring the way she could glare and smile simultaneously before he turned back to the guest. "Yes, perhaps I was mistaken," he offered, his words clipped. "I am sorry."

The woman harrumphed at Michel then nodded her thanks to Emily.

"Have a safe trip home…" seeing the wedding ring on the woman's hand, Emily continued, "Mrs…"

"Sinclair," the woman replied with a smile. "Susan Sinclair."

"Well, Mrs. Sinclair, thank you again for staying at the Dragonfly. I hope we'll see you again soon."

"Thank you, I think I will." Mrs. Sinclair gave Emily a friendly smile then stepped out the front door.

Lorelai walked up behind her mother and Michel as they stood near the doorway. She leaned close to Michel and teased with a grin, "_The Mermaid Chair_?"

"It is the soulful tale of a middle-aged woman whose stifled dreams and desires take shape during an extended stay on Egret Island, which evokes a magical sense of whimsy and poignancy," Michel replied haughtily.

Lorelai laughed loudly. "You got that from the flyleaf, didn't you?"

Michel turned and stalked back to the reservation desk with a huff, Lorelai still laughing and Emily giving in to her own chuckles.

Lorelai smiled and shook her head. "Very impressive, Mom."

Emily glanced sideways at her daughter, an eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Getting Michel to apologize to a guest… and without the threat of bodily injury. You handled that really well, Mom."

A small smile lightened Emily's features. "I'm glad you approve."

Lorelai gave her mother an reassuring smile. "Definitely."

Emily shook her head, a look of confused amusement on her face. "_The Mermaid Chair_?"

Lorelai shrugged and sipped her coffee in reply as both glanced back to where Michel stood across the room muttering to himself.

* * *

Emily looked at the digital clock on her dashboard as she pulled into the driveway. It was almost seven o'clock. Shifting the gear to park, she slid the key from the ignition and grabbed her purse. As soon as she opened the door to the house, she was greeted with a fruity aroma. She placed her coat and bag on the sofa, deciding to put them away later, and strode toward the dining room. "Richard, are you here?" she called out.

He didn't respond but stepping into the dining room, she spotted her husband seated at the head of the table. It took her a moment to look around the room and take it in. It wasn't much but the lights were turned down lower than usual and there were candles surrounding the centerpiece on the table. An arrangement of fresh, seasonal flowers was an elegant complement to the lace tablecloth.

Richard rose as she walked to her seat, pulling out the chair for her. "What is all this?" she asked, scooting closer to the table.

"I sent the staff home," he spoke, his voice low and sultry against her ear as he stood up straight.

Emily turned her head to the side just as he disappeared into the kitchen. She had no idea what he was up to but she was certainly intrigued.

After a few moments, Richard returned with two plates in his hands. Placing one in front of his wife and another in front of his seat, he sat down with a satisfied smile. "Mahi mahi," he stated as Emily nodded in approval.

"It looks wonderful," she commented, picking up her silverware.

"I thought perhaps you could tell me all about your first day of work," Richard suggested.

"Oh, you wouldn't want to hear about that," Emily waved with her hand, as if dismissing the thought that he'd be interested.

"Of course I would," he insisted. "I can't imagine how many years I've sat here and told you all about my day at work."

"Well, all right," she conceded. "In case you are wondering and I'm sure you are … Lorelai and I actually made it through the whole day without getting into a fight," she began.

Richard listened as she spoke, content to see a smile upon his wife's face and a genuine sparkle in her eyes. She seemed happier than she had been in quite a long time.

After their plates were placed in the dishwasher and the table had been cleared, both Emily and Richard retreated to the living room for a drink. Handing his wife a glass, he stepped around the couch and took a seat next to her, sitting just a bit closer than usual, which didn't go unnoticed by his wife.

"I have to admit that I had my doubts about you and Lorelai working together but I'm glad to know that everything went smoothly today," Richard commented, placing his arm across Emily's shoulders as she leaned into him and took a sip of her drink. "I just hope that you realize that you and Lorelai are going to inevitably butt heads sooner or later," he reminded her, hoping that she would prepare herself for it and not be too upset should it happen.

"I know," she breathed, not wanting to think about disaster before it struck. "But today was a very nice day … though I am rather tired," she admitted.

"Well, why don't we go upstairs to bed?" he suggested.

"It is only just now eight o'clock," Emily protested, resting her head against the nape of Richard's neck.

"I noticed on the television schedule for this evening that one of the movie channels is airing an all-night musical marathon," he commented, knowing that he'd piqued her interest when her head lifted from his shoulder.

"Which musicals are they showing?" Emily inquired.

"The paper is upstairs. Why don't we go find out?" Richard suggested.

As Emily rose to her feet, she returned her glass to the drink cart and waited for her husband to do the same.

"If only I had known forty years ago that getting a job would inspire you to serve me dinner and watch musicals with me, I would have done this ages ago," she commented wryly, a playful smile upon her lips as she walked towards the staircase.

"Forty years ago I'd never have let you get away with watching musicals all night long," Richard countered, following close behind her.

"Who says that I'll be watching them all night?" she asked, turning her head back to wink at her husband before reaching their bedroom.

"You know … I think perhaps the musical marathon isn't on tonight, after all…"

"Nice try," Emily laughed, disappearing into the dressing room.


	2. Emily Knows Best

**_Emily Knows Best_**

"Oh no, that's all wrong," Emily commented, stepping into the dining room as a young woman was arranging flowers on a table. The girl looked up at her, her eyes wide and full of surprise. "Who ordered these flowers?" she asked.

"Uhm … Lorelai, I think," the girl answered timidly.

"I'll finish this," Emily informed her. "I'm sure you have more important things to do than arrange flowers."

"Uh…" she stuttered.

"It's fine," Emily soothed with a reassuring smile, trying to calm the girl's nerves. "I'll take care of everything in here."

"Thank you, ma'am." She turned to walk away but was stopped by the sound of Emily's voice.

"Marie … is that right?" Emily asked, uncertain of the girl's name. She turned around and nodded. "Please call me Emily … at least when there aren't any guests around. I'm not your boss; that's Lorelai's job. I'm just here to help her with whatever I can."

"Yes ma- ... Emily," Marie smiled, turning around and quickly exiting the room.

"Oh, this is horrid," Emily sighed, returning her attention to the flower arrangement atop the table. Plucking a few flowers from the bunch and then rearranging the rest, she stood back and examined the final setting. Content that it was better than before, she moved around the room to the other tables.

"So, this is where you got off to," Lorelai commented, walking into the dining room. Stopping in her tracks, she spotted her mother with a bunch of flowers in her hands. "What are you…"

"The arrangements were all wrong. Luckily I caught Marie in time for them to be fixed." Emily walked past her, into the kitchen to throw away the extra blossoms. "Normally I would save these but they are such poor quality that they'll be wilted by morning." Running her hands under the sink to wash off any dirt, she dried them on a nearby dish towel. "You really should find a new florist, Lorelai. I could give you a few names of people that I've worked with in the past. You may pay a few cents more per stem but it will make quite a difference in the appearance and life of the flowers themselves. You would probably even be able to use them the following night in a different arrangement."

"Mom!" Lorelai injected, effectively silencing her mother.

"You can't just change the flowers," she informed her, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Why not?" Emily asked, bewildered by her daughter's remark.

"We always have them like that," Lorelai defended. "It is just the way things were done around here."

"Well, perhaps it is time for a change," Emily commented. Walking back into the dining room, she lifted a vase from one of the tables and held it out for Lorelai to examine. "You had orchids, lilies, and hydrangeas all in the same square glass vase. The colors do not blend well together and the different sizes of the stems did not look right in a clear vase. A flower arrangement should be noticed by the guests when they first sit down but then should just absorb into the table during the meal. The guests should not spend the entire dinner discussing whether or not their flowers are wilting quicker than their food."

"Well…" Lorelai looked at the arrangement her mother held out. She had to admit that it did look nice, better even. However she wasn't going to verbally admit that so easily. Taking a deep breath, she nodded at her mother's expectant look. "I suppose that makes sense," she conceded, saying no further.

"Good," Emily smiled, putting the vase back down on the table. "Now we should probably discuss these linens."

"What about them?" Lorelai questioned, exasperated by the complete attack upon her dining room.

"Lorelai," she spoke flatly, as if what she was trying to point out was so obvious that it didn't need an explanation.

"What?" she shrugged, clearly not following her mother.

"You can't possibly find these to be acceptable…" Lifting up the edge of one, she held the coarse material in her hands. "They have stains on them … a few are worn at the edges and the stitching at the hem is unraveling … this is not an image that you want to put out for your guests."

"Mom, we're not the Ritz," Lorelai reminded her. "We can't pay thousands of dollars a month just for tablecloths."

"This hotel is known for its outstanding dining experience and the high quality of Sookie's cooking. The two of you have built this place into a renowned inn and restaurant. That is an image that you have to maintain. Besides, I saw the bill from your linen service. They are robbing you blind," Emily added.

"We get a great deal from Manny," Lorelai defended. "And why were you going through my bills?" she added.

"You are overpaying by at least two hundred dollars a month," Emily objected. "And I wasn't going through anything. You had it lying out on the desk and I noticed it this morning when I was putting my things in your office."

"Well … but … how do you know all of this about florists and linens and … everything?" Lorelai asked.

"I've been planning events for years, Lorelai. You just accumulate a wealth of relatively useless knowledge. I know you and your father think that all of this is frivolous but when you have a certain budget to follow and you want to present the best imagine possible, you find ways to get what you want and to make the project come out under budget. If you don't, then people are going to remember the bad experience that they had."

"I guess you could get me the name of your linen company," Lorelai caved, trying not to show how annoyed she was. She knew that she had no right to be annoyed. Everything that Emily was saying and doing was only making the Inn better. Yet accepting the ideas from her mother, her better ideas, was hard to do. Having prided herself on not needing anyone else, she was finding it hard to accept that there were a few things her mother could do … and do better.

"Oh, and could I mentioned one more thing, Lorelai?" Emily asked.

"Sure. What is it?" she sighed.

"I don't want to sound as if I'm criticizing the way you run things around here … I don't meant to-"

"It's fine, Mom," Lorelai commented, no emotion in her voice.

"I just … I think that perhaps it would help if you also changed the china that you use. The off-white color doesn't sit well against the shade of the tablecloths…"

"Well … I'll think about that, Mom," Lorelai nodded.

"All right, then. I'll see if there is anything else that I can do for Michel and then be on my way. Your father and I have a dinner party to attend at the Rosenblatt's. You don't mind if I head out a little early, do you?"

"No, that's fine," she agreed, watching as her mother left, then turning to look out at the dining room. She wanted to rip the linen from the table and break every plate that sat on top of it. Every idea that her mother had was perfect. Utterly perfect.

* * *

"So, you've made it two whole days so far," Luke grinned, lifting the sheet as he slid into bed next to Lorelai. She immediately moved into his arms, laying her head against his chest and closing her eyes. It felt nice to just lie next to him and relax.

"Eh," she mumbled, "everything is fine. She butts in, she defies me, she infuriates me, she goes around what I asked her to do and does something else … yet somehow it all works out. I mean, she actually did kind of help out yesterday. And today too. She really helped us with the interviews for a new chef. I mean, she's good at that, interviewing staff. She knows exactly what to ask after all those people that pass through her house on a monthly basis, I suppose." Lorelai tightened her arms around Luke's body, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. In his arms she felt a comfort that she didn't feel anywhere else.

"You like it, don't you?" Luke grinned, looking down at her resting comfortably in his arms.

"What? I … I … No … I…" Lorelai stammered, suddenly pushing herself up as she retreated from his embrace. "I don't ... " Luke glared at her, challenging her to answer him. Rolling her eyes, Lorelai sighed heavily, flopping back against the headboard. "Fine. Fine. You win." She held her hands up in defeat. "Maybe I do like it. I have missed Sookie and having a partner to help out with all the little stuff that piles up." She quickly threw her pointer finger in his face. "I swear to God if you ever repeat this…"

"My lips are sealed," Luke promised with a grin.

"Stop smiling like that," Lorelai huffed. "I just like that it means less work for me," she argued, crossing her arms as she looked away from him.

Luke nodded, "Okay."

"Besides, if my mother is handling some of the stuff at the Inn, then I have time to plan our wedding. And you do want me to plan our wedding, don't you?" she teased, reaching her hand out to trail her fingers over his leg.

"You are trying to change the subject, but of course I want you to plan our wedding," Luke reassured her.

"I found the perfect invitations. My mother-" Lorelai stopped herself mid-sentence as she realized what she was about to say.

"You did not let your mother talk you into some fancy, scratch-and-sniff, lined in pearls, and dripped in gold invitation, did you?" Luke asked, becoming alarmed at the direction this was starting to take.

"They are not dipped in gold or scratch-and-sniff," Lorelai defended with a laugh.

"But they do have pearls on them?" he asked, genuinely afraid to know the answer.

"No," Lorelai groaned. "They're pearlized but they do not have pearls on them. Come on, Luke, you've got to trust me not to just lose my mind entirely."

Luke chuckled lightly as he pulled Lorelai back into his arms. "So, we're really doing this?"

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. "Of course we are."

"Just checking," he reassured her. "I know I messed things up before but this time … I'm not backing out of this. I don't care if I have to bring a minister to the house and marry you on the front porch with Paul Anka and Babette as witnesses."

"That would horrify my mother," Lorelai noted with delight in her eyes. "I could put the monkey lamp out there on the railing just to irk her every time she sees our wedding photos."

"I think I prefer the plans we've already made. Maybe you can save the porch and the monkey lamp for the next time you get married."

"I guess so," Lorelai giggled, shifting her body to rest against Luke's.

* * *

"This place looks amazing," Lorelai confirmed as she stood in the middle of the dining room and looked out at the ornately decorated tables. "The Dennisons are going to love it. It's exactly what they described."

Emily nodded as she stood next to Lorelai, surveying the room. "Your staff did a wonderful job in here."

Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that something was finally working out. "As long as the new chef does his job and cooks what they ordered, then we're all set."

"I think it will be just fine, Lorelai," Emily confirmed. As she looked over the table in front of them, she suddenly rushed forward. "This is all wrong," she stated, beginning to move the place setting around.

"Mom! Stop! What are you doing?" Lorelai demanded, moving to her mother's side and reaching for her arm. "The guests will be here any minute!"

"This place setting is wrong. The candlesticks should not be this close to the centerpiece," Emily informed her, moving them closer together.

"It's fine, Mom. The way it was is fine," Lorelai insisted, moving the candlesticks back to their original setting.

"They are supposed to be placed like this," Emily insisted, reaching over Lorelai to move the candlesticks back to where she had them before.

"No, they aren't," Lorelai insisted, refusing to let go of them despite that her mother was holding them too. "We always put them like this." She jerked a bit and Emily let go of the candlesticks. "Thank you," Lorelai snapped, standing them up straight and flattening out the crumpled tablecloth.

"If you want to set your table incorrectly, then you are going to have to be the one who deals with the reputation that you create," Emily stated curtly, standing rigidly next to her daughter.

"This is how the table has been set for years, Mother. We have always done it like this. Every employee that we have ever had has put the candlesticks here," she argued, straightening out a wick.

"Whatever you say, Lorelai," Emily replied, a cold tone in her voice.

"Why does it matter if the candlesticks are here or there? We put them an extra two inches closer to the centerpiece, God forbid, Mother." Lorelai rolled her eyes as she stepped back to admire the place setting.

"It is your Inn, Lorelai. If you want your candlesticks close enough to the flower arrangement to catch on fire, then have it your way. It isn't like you can exactly afford the caliber of staff that would know the proper placement for setting a table. Further, you probably don't even have the caliber of guests who would know the difference. So, I suppose it doesn't really matter, does it?" With her declaration, she turned and walked out of the dining room.

Lorelai stood still, her arms crossed as she tapped her foot on the floor a few times to calm her nerves. Glaring at the table, she animatedly reached out and shoved the candlesticks two inches to the right. "There," she stated, her voice loud enough for her mother to hear. "I put the God forsaken candlesticks the way you wanted them. Are you happy now?" she demanded, turning to leave the room.

"I'm utterly delighted," Emily called from the opposite room, her voice shrill.

* * *

**Notes: **Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to post a review since the last update: DiehardJavaJunkie14, Ann Y. Mous, Miss GoodManners, Mary, and Addicted to TV.


	3. Playing Second Fiddle

_**Playing Second Fiddle**_

"Well, what about golf? That's always a good stand by theme. Is your husband much of a golfer?" Lorelai suggested. The meeting with Mrs. Mason to plan her husband's retirement party was quickly going from bad to worse, the older woman politely dismissing one idea after another.

"No, not really?" Barbara Mason sighed in return.

"Tennis? Fishing?" Lorelai was grasping at straws now.

"No. No," the well dressed woman replied running a hand through her slightly graying but stylishly cut brown hair. "I don't mean to be this difficult, really."

"You're not being difficult," Lorelai responded, doing her best to smile politely. "I'm just trying to help come up with something he might like. What are his hobbies?"

Mrs. Mason shook her head. "We've just spent so much time working all these years that there hasn't been much opportunity to develop hobbies."

"Well, why don't we put the theme on the back burner for the moment and talk about some other things… food, music, do you have any ideas for those?"

"Well he does love to eat," Mrs. Mason chuckled warmly. "He's quite the gourmet cook, but I guess you can't really theme a party around cooking."

"Let's not rule anything out just yet." Lorelai made a quick note on the yellow pad in front of her. She had no idea how to theme a party for a retiring corporate attorney who was a gourmet cook, but it was all they had so far.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Emily apologized, a small stack of books in her hands as she stepped into the room. "I'll come back and put these away later."

"No, it's okay. Mrs. Mason, this is Emily Gilmore, one of the owners of the Dragonfly."

"Nice to meet you, Emily. Please call me Barbara." Her eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly at Emily. "So the Dragonfly is a family business?"

"Yes, I guess it is," Lorelai replied noncommittally as the new idea took shape in her mind.

"Oh, it must be so nice to have your daughter in business with you," Barbara continued happily.

Emily watched Lorelai's expression carefully. "The Dragonfly is really Lorelai's creation. I've only recently begun to help out a little."

"Still, to have a daughter that you're that close to," Barbara reflected wistfully, "That's really a gift."

Lorelai looked down at her notes, shifting uncomfortably in her chair while Emily kept her gaze fixed on the woman she was speaking to and smiled politely. "Yes, it is."

A tense quiet settled over the room for a moment which if not unnoticed by Mrs. Mason was definitely ignored.

Emily took a step backwards, "I'll let you get on with your planning."

"Join us, please," Barbara invited. "I seem to be terrible at coming up with a theme for this party. Maybe you'll have some ideas."

Emily looked to Lorelai, measuring her reaction.

"Yeah, Mom. Three heads are better than two," Lorelai offered unenthusiastically.

"You're planning a retirement party, right?" Emily asked as she took a seat at the table.

"Yes," Barbara's smile beamed. "After more than fifty years, my husband Ray has finally decided to retire." She shook her head, still grinning, "Never thought I'd see the day."

"We've pretty much exhausted the idea of a hobbies or sports as a theme. Any other ideas?" Lorelai asked her mother.

"Well, what kinds of things has he talked about doing over the years? Any dreams he's always wanted to try but never had the time? Maybe something he enjoyed as a young man that he's had to forgo in favor of his career?" Emily asked.

"For years he's talked about buying an island in the South Seas. It's been kind of a running joke." Barbara chuckled lightly at the memory.

"Well that could make for a fun theme," Lorelai commented flipping to a new page on her notepad and jotting down a few notes. "Palm trees, pineapples, tiki torches, leis…"

"I don't know, maybe it's too over the top…leis," Barbara said with a quizzical look on her face.

"Oh they can be quite lovely if they're made with fresh flowers, orchids maybe…" Emily suggested.

"He has always loved orchids," Barbara agreed.

"It could be very tastefully done. Exotic flowers for the centerpieces, surrounded by banana leaves to give the tables a lush, tropical look. What about music, maybe a Polynesian combo, steel guitar… those wonderful native drums," Emily continued.

"Oh that sounds splendid, just splendid," Barbara agreed, her excitement growing.

Emily's eyes glittered with exhilaration. "What would you think of Polynesian dancers?"

"I love it," Barbara clapped her hands together. "Do you think we could find some by Saturday?"

"Oh, I think I can make a few calls. I should really be writing this down," Emily looked around on the table for a pen.

"I've got it covered, Mom," Lorelai commented quietly as she continued to make notes.

"Thank you, Lorelai," Emily replied.

"Emily, you're a marvel. I don't know what we would have done without you," Barbara gushed.

"Now what about food?" Emily asked. "Most people don't really like Polynesian food, but I'm sure our chef will have some ideas. Maybe just a hint of exotic flavors."

Lorelai kept her head down and her mouth determinedly shut as her pen scratched across the paper, silently willing herself to remain calm in front of Mrs. Mason now that she had been relegated to playing secretary to her mother.

It was nearly an hour later when Lorelai gathered her papers and files up in the library while Emily escorted Mrs. Mason out of the Inn. She'd ultimately given up any pretense of making suggestions for the party. It seemed like every word her mother uttered was pure gold while all of her ideas were met with polite disinterest. What made it so difficult to take was the fact that she'd always prided herself on planning unique and memorable events for people. At least until now.

Emily breezed back into the room with a smile. "Oh, this is going to be a lovely party Saturday, don't you think Lorelai?" She picked up the books she'd left on the table and began putting them in their places around the room.

"Yeah, sure," Lorelai answered, not looking up from her papers.

"That Barbara Mason is certainly a lovely woman."

"You two certainly seemed to hit it off." Lorelai rose and headed out of the room.

Emily nodded, "We did, didn't we?" She moved to replace the floral arrangement back into the middle of the now empty table. "If you need any numbers for booking the musicians and the dancers, I have a few agencies I could give you."

Lorelai spun around in the doorway and faced her mother. "You know what, Mom? Why don't you just take over this whole party? I mean you're the one whose ideas Mrs. Mason just _loved_." She placed particular emphasis on the last word the way she'd heard it over and over in the last hour spoken by their client.

"Lorelai…" Emily began to protest.

Lorelai raised her hand to silence Emily. "No, Mom. I'm sure she'll _love_ everything you do, besides… I have plenty of other things that need to be taken care of."

"Well, if you're sure?"

"I'm sure." Lorelai turned on her heel and walked briskly out of the room.

* * *

"Well, it only took a week," Lorelai declared, scooting her stool up to take a seat at the counter.

"What?" Luke asked, confused as he turned around from the coffee pot and placed a paper cup in front of her, filling it automatically.

"Thanks," she mumbled, reaching out to savor the feel of the warmth in her hands before sipping the brew. "Oh," she groaned in delight, "I love coffee. I could marry coffee …" Looking up at Luke, she smiled, "Well, if I weren't marrying you first … Though if we were in Utah, I could marry you both." Her eyes narrowed for a second. "You can marry two people in Utah, right? Or we could just go to Vegas, you know, that whole 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' thing…"

Luke stared at her strangely, a look she was intimately familiar with. When she finally stopped rambling, he spoke up. "What only took a week?"

"Huh?" She put the cup down on the counter, yet still grasping it tightly in her hands.

"You said it only took a week…"

"Oh," she sighed, her shoulders sagging as her good mood faded. "My mother finally took over today."

"You own the place, Lorelai. Just tell her to back off," he suggested.

"I can't," she mumbled, looking down.

"Why not? When have you ever been one to back down where your mother is concerned?"

Lorelai groaned, not wanting to say it. "Because she's good," she murmured. Realizing Luke couldn't hear her, she looked up in defeat. "She's doing a really good job. Everything is running smoothly. The staff just adores her. We have tons of events booked and perfectly scheduled meetings and … everything is just perfect." She sighed before finding her second wind and speaking again. "And did I mention that the staff loves her? The staff! Her home is like a revolving door of people that she employs, abuses, and then fires. Yet somehow every person that I employ adores her. And I mean _adores_ her, Luke! Do you remember Miguel who works in the kitchen? I came in like two days ago and he and my mother are laughing." When Luke didn't respond, she emphasized her point again. "My mother was laughing with a guy who stirs soup, Luke." He only nodded. "Marie … she told me yesterday that it must be wonderful to have such a fun mother." Luke's eyebrow rose at that one. "Yeah. My mother has taken over my inn. The staff likes her better than me. In a matter of weeks, this whole town will like her better than me. She will build a house here and move into the city limits. By the end of the year, you'll probably even like her better than me," Lorelai sighed.

"I doubt that," Luke commented dryly.

"You say that now," Lorelai frowned. "Once she lures you in with her infinite knowledge of how to make the perfect veggie burger, you'll be unable to resist her," she pouted. "The diner will be utterly transformed."

"I will never, ever," he emphasized, "serve a veggie burger." Luke glanced around the diner quickly, noticing that the counter was empty and a few guests were seated at a safe distance. Putting his hand on top of Lorelai's, he smiled reassuringly. "Besides, I've only ever had eyes for one Gilmore woman and that's you."

When Lorelai's frown broke into a smile, Luke leaned forward and kissed her before pulling back to wipe the counter down.

"Though," he added, not looking up, "you do apparently get your legs from your mother …" Trailing off, he turned and walked into the back.

"Hey!" Lorelai called after him, "what does that mean?! Luke! How do you know what my mother's legs look like? Come back here!"

"Lorelai," Taylor's voice interrupted her, causing her to turn her head to find him directly beside her.

"Hey, Taylor," she smiled uneasily, looking at the doorway once more, hoping Luke would reappear.

"I couldn't help overhearing your earlier conversation with Luke. I think we need to discuss this situation with your mother."

"What is there to discuss Taylor?" she asked, confused by his evasiveness.

"We specifically agreed that she would be a silent partner," Taylor informed her, definiteness in his tone of voice.

"So?" she prodded, encouraging him to elaborate a bit more.

"She is no longer silent," Taylor confirmed matter of factly.

As she was about to speak, Lorelai's phone rang and she sighed before reaching into her purse for it. "I've got to go, Taylor."

"Lorelai!" he called after her as she headed for the door.

"No cell phones," she reminded him, waving hers in the air. "We'll talk later, Taylor? Ok? Great. Bye!" Retreating from the diner, she flipped open her phone and pressed it to her ear. "Hey, kiddo," she smiled, delighted by the pleasant surprise of Rory's voice on the other end.

* * *

"Ok, I give up … what is this?" Lorelai asked, poking her fork at the white substance on her plate that had some sort of lemon juice surrounding it. It swished around in the juice when she forked it and bumped against her potatoes.

"Stop playing with your food. You are not eight years old," Emily reprimanded her, looking out the corner of her eye as Lorelai wearily examined her dinner. "It is ceviche."

"I'm afraid to eat it. Are you sure it is cooked?" she asked, finally looking up at her mother. "I don't want to catch some weird South American disease."

Emily rolled her eyes, exhaling loudly. "It cooks in the lemon juice. And the fish has never even been to Mexico, let alone another continent. So if you catch some South American disease, it won't be from my dinner.""

"It cooks in the lemon juice? So … technically it isn't cooked?"

"I just told you that it is cooked, Lorelai," Emily repeated, the irritation evident from her short tone of voice.

"In an oven … on a stovetop?" Lorelai asked.

"In the lemon juice," she stated once more.

"But the lemon juice is in an oven or on a stovetop when it cooks the fish, right?"

"No, Lorelai," Richard interjected, also annoyed by her persistence.

"You're not eating this are you?" she asked, looking up at her father, her fork poised in her hand.

"It does look uncooked, Emily," he noted, trying to make his voice sound unattached so as to avoid provoking his wife's anger.

Sighing, Emily let the fork fall from her hands and it clinked loudly against her plate. "Did you not tell me last week that you were sick of the same meals week after week?"

"I did but I didn't mean for you to go out and find a meal that would give us salmonella," Richard argued as his wife's eyes grew wider.

"The lemon juice cooks the fish! There is nothing unsafe about it. You have eaten this before and enjoyed it, Richard," she insisted.

"When?" he asked.

"I don't know the exact date," she spat, annoyed by both her husband and daughter.

"What's for dessert?" Lorelai asked, looking perky as the idea crossed her mind. It had to be better than this.

Pushing her chair back, Emily sighed again, shaking her head as she reached for her daughter's plate. "I'll go instruct the maid to prepare desert." She stopped next to Richard's chair and motioned with her free hand towards his plate. "I suppose you are also finished with dinner?"

Richard smiled nonchalantly and looked down as Emily reached for his plate.

"What's for desert?" Lorelai asked again.

"Fish soufflé," Emily spoke flatly as she disappeared from the room.

"She's kidding … right?" Lorelai asked, looking across the table at her father, who only shrugged his shoulders. "You're only kidding, Mom … Mom?!" she raised her voice, yet got no response.

* * *

"Well, tell Dad that I said goodnight." Lorelai slid her arm into her coat as she walked to the front door. Shrugging it onto her shoulders, she reached for the doorknob and was almost out safely when she heard her mother calling after her. Lorelai turned around slowly, looking back at her mother, "Yeah, Mom…"

"Wednesday at the Inn when Barbara was planning her event… I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Mom," Lorelai interjected, cutting her off. "Everything is fine. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon." She threw her purse over her shoulder, clutching her keys in her right hand.

Emily seemed unconvinced. "I didn't mean to …"

"Mom, I said it is fine," she repeated, stopping herself from saying more.

Emily tried to speak but Lorelai cut her off once again. "Mom," she interjected more forcefully, effectively silencing her mother. "Good night."

Emily watched as her daughter exited the house, walking down the path. Reluctantly closing the door, she frowned as she realized that the house smelled of lemon juice and raw fish.

* * *

_ Thanks for reading and thanks to those who took the time to review: Ann Y. Mous, Mary, Miss GoodManners, Addicted to Tv, DieHardJavaJunkie14, and Riska! _


	4. Hot and Steamy

_**Hot and Steamy, Just Like a Good Cup of Coffee**_

"Thank you, Marianne," Emily smiled, handing a pile of dirty tablecloths to a young, blond-haired woman. Turning back to the table as the girl walked to the kitchen, Emily lifted a chair that had been turned upside down atop the table and placed it flat on the floor. The dining room was empty and everything had been cleared from the room. All of the tables had been cleaned and the chairs were up so that the floor could be waxed. Taking a seat in the chair she'd retrieved, she propped her elbows up on the tabletop before gently massing her temples with her fingertips.

"Well, it looks like you made it through your initiation," Lorelai stated as Emily slowly looked up at her. Pulling a chair down for herself, Lorelai plopped down next to her mother.

"The servers are almost done with the dishes. I told them that they could go home when they were finished. The new chef left about twenty minutes ago. Oh, and I think James and Manuel are going to start on the floors around midnight. Manuel is apparently cleaning up a mess someone made in the bathroom."

"The woman with the big," Lorelai made a motion towards her chest with her hands, "who drank three whole bottles of wine?"

Emily nodded. "It isn't nice to talk about people, Lorelai. The woman clearly has a problem."

"Oh, come on, Mom," Lorelai teased. "You couldn't have not noticed her …" Emily raised an eyebrow, looking squarely at her daughter, "assets?"

Rolling her eyes as she turned her face away to prevent Lorelai from catching her hint of a smile, she replied calmly, "I suppose she could have chosen a more appropriate gown."

"Oh! And what about Mr. Touchy-Feely? Did you run into him? I got cornered by the buffet when he was asking about booking a room for his next shareholder meeting. I haven't looked in a mirror in a while, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's a handprint or two on my rear end."

Emily huffed. "I managed to avoid him on more than one occasion."

"The guy with the Barbie doll wife … didn't he remind you of-"

"Lorelai," Emily interjected. "Is this what you do after an event? You gossip about the guests?"

"Of course," she answered. "What is more fun than comparing a bunch of strangers to your odd friends and relatives. I mean … you have to agree that the woman with the … you know … kinda reminds you of Dad's cousin Lena."

Emily quickly made a face. "You can't be…" her voice trailed off and Lorelai's smile grew wider.

"See… you agree with me," she chirped happily.

"I didn't get a very good look at her face," Emily replied evenly.

"Yeah, well, I can't blame you for that one. I doubt any of the men remember her face either."

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Emily asked. Lorelai only giggled, pulling one leg up onto the chair as she tucked it under her other.

"You know, Mom…" she began tentatively.

Emily's smile fell as the tone of her daughter's voice became more somber.

"I'm not really used to this and I…" The words were harder to express than she'd imagined.

"Lorelai," Emily spoke softly, "if I did something that bothered you tonight, it is all right to tell me."

"No," she quickly corrected. "No. No. That isn't it at all. Actually, you were wonderful tonight. Everything went perfectly. And that's kind of a rare thing for us around here."

Emily smiled half-heartedly, as uncomfortable as her daughter by the unexpected moment of honesty between them. "I'm glad that I could be of help," she finally spoke.

"Me too. I have to admit that I … it makes things easier now that Sookie isn't around as much. And, well, I kind of like having some extra help around the Inn."

Emily smiled, touched by her daughter's admission but unsure what to say.

The awkward silence lingered for a few moments more before Lorelai finally spoke again. "Well, I guess I should probably make sure everything is OK around here and get home. I'm sure Paul Anka is probably sitting at the front door waiting for me. He won't eat dinner unless I'm there to watch him. Well, he'll eat a hamburger or something if Luke makes it for him but, well, Luke's not really that fond of cooking for a dog. So…"

"Luke is waiting for you at home?" Emily asked.

"Yeah," Lorelai answered hesitantly, afraid that perhaps she had revealed too much.

"Well, then, why don't you let me finish things up here. You go on to the house," she suggested.

"Yeah, but I'm sure Dad is waiting for you too," Lorelai countered, feeling uncertain about leaving.

"As many nights as I have spent waiting for your father to get off the phone or put down the newspaper, he can spend another hour waiting for me."

"You're sure?" she asked timidly.

"Of course. Go," Emily insisted. "Everything here is basically finished."

"Thanks," Lorelai smiled, standing up and returning her chair to its inverted position on the table. "Good night, Mom."

"Good night," Emily replied, watching as her daughter exited the dining room. Rising from her place at the table, she took a final look around the room, making sure that everything was in order.

* * *

Lorelai pushed open the front door to the house and took her key from the lock, dropping it into her purse. Taking a deep breath, she sighed in contentment. The house smelled of roasted coffee beans and … a hint of chocolate, too. Her face broke out into a smile at the thought of two of her favorite things.

"I'm home," she called out, shutting the door as she dropped her purse on the table by the phone and walked towards the kitchen, following the decadent aroma that had engulfed her house.

"Hey," Luke grinned as she walked into the room. He was bent over the oven and pulling out a pan.

"If someone killed me right now, I would die a happy woman," she commented, taking in a deep breath as she sat down at the table. "I figured you'd be in bed by now. What are you making?"

"I know catering and the menu is something that you and Sookie are taking care of but …. I remembered this dessert that my mother used to make for me when I was a kid. I thought I'd try it out and see if it is even something that I still like." He took the contents of the pan and scooped something out onto a plate. "You can make it look a lot fancier than this. I was just testing out the recipe," he added, bringing the plate to the table. "It's just a chocolate coffee cake. I mean, it may not even be anything special."

Passing Lorelai a fork, he sat the plate down on the table before taking a seat across from her. She took the fork with a smile and pressed it into the cake, blowing first then taking a tentative bite, steam rising off her fork. Luke watched her anxiously, though she could tell that he was trying to pretend he wasn't that eager for her response.

"Oh my God," she choked out, putting her hand over her mouth, "that is amazing, Luke."

"Well, I don't know…" he stuttered.

"Yes," she insisted, taking another bite.

"You and Sookie already have plans, I know…" his voice trailed off.

"No," she insisted. "We have some ideas but nothing is set in stone. And we haven't even thought about the cake yet."

"We don't have to use it," Luke reminded her.

"Luke, it's perfect. I mean it," she smiled, placing her hand atop his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I can't think of anything better than using your mother's recipe. Sookie will love it, too. She's all for old family recipes. It will be perfect," she repeated.

Luke smiled, genuinely happy that she liked the recipe. "Good. I felt like maybe I wasn't contributing anything to the wedding. You know … all of these plans and everything that you're doing…"

"Just showing up is enough for me," she grinned.

"That I can handle," Luke chuckled lightly.

"Then we have everything we need," she agreed. Pushing her fork into the cake for another bite, she scooped up a piece of it. "Now tell me more about your mother and when she would make this for you. I like hearing stories about her." Savoring the flavors of coffee and chocolate together, she waited for Luke to speak.

"My mother was like something out of a fairytale. I know all little boys adore their mothers … but mine was the real deal…"

Lorelai listened happily as Luke shared with her the memories of his childhood.

* * *

Quietly pushing open the door to her bedroom, Emily was glad that Richard had left a lamp on for her. It was much easier than feeling her way over to the closet and hoping that she didn't trip on something before she got there. She stopped for a moment to smile at her sleeping husband, his back turned to her. Afraid that he might turn over and find her staring at him, she moved to the closet and silently shut the door behind herself.

Picking out a simple black, short-sleeve pajama set, she took it into the bathroom with her, placing it on the vanity next to her toiletries. It wasn't likely that Richard could hear her all the way in here yet she still tried to be quiet as she washed her face and removed her make-up, deciding to take a quick shower before bed.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she removed her glasses and laid them atop a book on her nightstand. Reaching to turn off the lamp, she pulled the covers back and slid into bed. Her side was cold and the crisp sheets immediately cast a chill over her warm skin. Moving closer to her husband, she was about to snuggle up behind him when she felt his body moving and he rolled over to face her.

"How was your party?" he asked, his voice groggy.

"It was wonderful," she smiled, lying inches away from him, their heads resting on the pillows.

"I'm glad," Richard smiled back at her, running his hand down her arm.

Emily closed her eyes at the physical contact, his warm hand helping her to forget about the coolness of the sheets. "I'm sorry that I woke you," she whispered.

"I'm not," Richard retorted, shifting his body closer to hers as he slid his arm around her waist and down her back, pulling her lower body forward and into him. "I missed you tonight."

"I'm here now," she whispered, looking into his eyes as her hand found its way to his chest. "And I'm all yours."

"I like the sound of that," Richard grinned, his hand pressing against her lower back as he moved in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

Finally breaking away from him to catch her breath, she immediately began tugging at the buttons of his pajama top before her hands slid lower to his pants.

"Emily," he choked out as her hands slid across his lower body. Looking up at him, her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. "What has come over you lately?" he grinned.

"Do you really care, Richard?" she smirked, pushing herself back a bit to get a good enough grasp on her top as she slid it over her head. Starting at him as he watched her, she raised her eyebrows, "Do you?"

"Do I what?" he asked, confused by her question.

Laughing, Emily lowered herself down, pressing her body against him as his arms wound around her waist.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed: DieHardJavaJunki14, Riska, Mary, Miss GoodManners, Ann Y. Mous, Addicted to TV, and Melin. We appreciate the time you take to give us some much appreciated feedback! _Oh, and UnaVitaSegreta wanted to say: I'm glad you enjoyed the ceviche scene. I've traveled quite a bit in Peru and never been able to try it without fear of getting ill but I will one day work up the courage!_


	5. Guest Lists and Ladies Room Attendants

_**Guest Lists and Ladies Room Attendants**_

Lorelai scowled at the coffee maker in the Dragonfly kitchen as she waited for it to stop and sighed dramatically. "I seriously hate Mondays."

Behind her, Emily breezed into the room smiling from ear to ear. "Good morning," she greeted the kitchen staff brightly as she approached her daughter. "Lorelai."

"Morning, Mom." Lorelai glanced briefly at her mother then back to the coffee pot.

As the final sputters sounded from the industrial machine, Emily reached past Lorelai. "Coffee's ready." She poured a cup and handed it to her daughter then poured a cup for herself.

Lorelai took several long, satisfying sips of the hot coffee and then took a first real look at her mother. Emily was her typical poised and polished self, in her perfectly tailored gray slacks and striking hounds tooth blazer, her auburn hair coiffed to perfection, but all of that was typical. What wasn't typical was the look on her face. She was positively glowing, her eyes alight from within. Lorelai raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Have a good weekend, Mom?"

"Yes, I did," Emily answered, her look warning her daughter not to go any farther.

Lorelai knew the look and her eyes lit up with the thought of defying it. "Is it safe to assume Dad has a matching grin this morning?"

"Lorelai, really," Emily scolded.

"What? I'm just saying…"

"Well, don't."

Lorelai almost shivered at the icy coolness in her mother's voice and decided not to push her any further.

Breathing an inward sigh of relief as her daughter actually backed down, Emily took another sip of her coffee.

"Emily, a Sylvia Rosenblatt is here to see you," Michel announced as he entered the room.

Emily put down her mug and turned to one of the servers. "Steven, would you please bring a coffee tray to the library?"

"Yes, Mrs. Gilmore," the young man replied.

Emily glanced at the array of baked goods on the table next to her. "Oh and please bring some of those pastries," she added then turned back to Lorelai with a light laugh. "As long as she's eating, she's happy."

The server immediately set about putting together the requested items.

Michel turned to Lorelai as Emily left. "What a dreadful name, Rosen_blatt. _Sounds like some sort of disease."

* * *

Lorelai hung up the phone in her small office and looked down at the pad of lined pink notebook paper in front of her. The invitations for the wedding would need to go out as soon as they were finished at the printer and every time she had asked Luke who he wanted to invite to the wedding his answer was the same: 'April, Liz, TJ, and Jess.' Well, there were a few times he'd left out TJ, depending on how recently his brother-in-law had annoyed him. There had to be more people he wanted to invite. They'd agreed on a small wedding, but small so far included most of Stars Hollow. While she wanted more names from Luke, the thing she was dreading was telling her mother that they weren't planning to invite most of the extended Gilmore relatives. Lorelai was so focused on her list that she didn't hear Emily enter.

"Going over the guest list for the wedding?" Emily asked, peering over her daughter's shoulder.

Lorelai looked up, startled to see her mother standing right next to her and looking down at the list.

"Looks like you've got most of the town on there," Emily observed.

"Yeah, well. Small town, big egos. Luke and I would be looking over our shoulders and ducking rotten vegetables for the rest of our lives if we left most of these people off."

Emily smiled and nodded. "I understand. I think I have a whole different picture of this town of yours than I used to. They're good people mostly."

"Yeah, they are," Lorelai agreed, her eyes widening with surprise at her mother's words.

"That Kirk fellow is definitely not right, and your mayor is a bit of a despot, but the rest of them are just…" she shrugged as she tried to find the right word.

"Nuts? Batty? Off the beam?" Lorelai suggested.

"Colorful," Emily finished.

"You know, Mom, I've been meaning to talk to you about the wedding."

Emily straightened, bracing herself for what Lorelai clearly didn't want to tell her.

"As you can clearly see, this has already moved beyond the small wedding Luke and I originally talked about."

Emily nodded silently, still waiting for the blow she was sure would be coming next.

"Well, it's just that the church here only holds so many people and we're already about at capacity, plus I've never really been particularly close to most of Dad's relatives, so…"

Unnoticed by Lorelai, her mother's shoulders dropped a few inches as she relaxed.

"Your father will be disappointed, but he'll understand that there really isn't any other option."

"So, ah, you wanna take care of that Mom?" Lorelai asked sweetly.

Emily regarded her daughter for a moment, seeing clearly through the manipulation, but still happy that Lorelai had actually asked her for help in a roundabout way. "Fine," she agreed with an air of reluctance.

"Thank you, Mommy," Lorelai teased.

"Stop it," Emily chastised. "I actually came in here for an Inn related reason."

Lorelai made a show of straightening in her chair, throwing her hair over her shoulder and putting on a serious face.

Emily rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"Yes, your meeting with Mrs. Rosenblatt. How did that go?"

"Very well," Emily confirmed.

"Liked the Danish, did she?" Lorelai grinned.

Emily shook her head and handed Lorelai a piece of paper. "She loved all the ideas we came up with for the party. I've got her final choices marked and I told her I'd call her back with an updated quote. Care to tell me what that's going to be?"

Lorelai looked down at the sheet in front of her and her eyes lit up. "Dang, she's pulling out all the stops, isn't she?"

"Well, it is their golden anniversary, after all. Not many people stay together that long anymore. Besides, they've got the money, so why shouldn't they spend it?"

"Any more of your friends have anniversaries or birthdays coming up? A few more parties like this one and I can retire," Lorelai mumbled.

* * *

"Ah, a bar mitzvah. I'd love to come hear you then, but I can't make it Saturday night. What about a rehearsal?" Lorelai had her cell phone balanced against her shoulder as she straightened up the lobby of the Dragonfly. "You guys have something coming up on a weekday that maybe I could come listen to? Wednesday, huh? That's tomorrow. I'll try to make it." She snapped the bright pink razer closed and slid it into the pocket of her rust-colored blazer with a groan.

"A bar mitzvah?" Emily asked from the reservation desk.

"Well…" Lorelai hedged for a moment. "I didn't realize it would be so hard to find a band that didn't already have a gig lined up for New Year's Eve."

"Why won't you let me make a call for you? I'm sure I can find a lovely band for the wedding," Emily suggested.

"Thanks, Mom, but Luke's not that into big band music," Lorelai replied flatly.

"Oh please, I am not that old," Emily protested. "While I do enjoy swing music, I certainly wasn't old enough to dance to it in the 40s. I actually have a wide range of musical tastes, you know, and I have contacts that can find whatever it is you and Luke want."

Lorelai's high heeled boots clicked noisily on the hardwood floor as she crossed over to her mother. "Well, that's just it. I'm not sure what I want," she admitted grumpily.

"Well, what kind of atmosphere do you want for the reception? Do you want dinner music?" Emily asked, trying to help focus the issue.

"I want classy but comfortable, not too stuffy. They should be able to play music for all age groups to dance to. Dinner music is good, but that could always be just a guitarist or something."

"True, true," Emily nodded making notes on a small pad of paper next to her. "Have you decided on any songs yet?"

Lorelai sighed and leaned against the front of the desk. "No, I keep changing my mind. Nothing really seems to fit."

Emily patted her daughter's hand reassuringly. "You'll come up with something. Why don't you ask Rory? She'd probably have some good suggestions."

Lorelai smiled. "That's a good idea. Give her something to do on those long bus rides."

"I'll just make a few calls. Find out the names of some available groups, okay? The decision will still be up to you and Luke."

"Okay," Lorelai agreed reluctantly.

"Now, I just spoke to Sylvia again," Emily said putting the paper aside.

"What's she adding now? Solid gold toothpicks for the hors d'oeuvres?"

Emily did her best not to laugh and looked away as she replied. "No, she wanted to be sure there were going to be washroom attendants."

"Washroom attendants?" Lorelai repeated incredulously. "I can't speak about a men's room from experience, but don't you find a ladies' room attendant just a bit creepy?"

"No," Emily answered honestly.

"I mean, someone whose job it is to stand in the bathroom all night and hand people towels or chewing gum. It's just creepy."

"It is not creepy, Lorelai. It's a convenience, like the valets for the cars."

"Well I for one don't need help parking anything in a bathroom."

This time Emily couldn't help but chuckle. "That's not what I meant and you know it. It will ensure things stay neat and tidy, that the towels are kept stocked, and the laundry hampers emptied."

"Okay, restroom attendants," Lorelai shook her head. "This is definitely a first for the Dragonfly."

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who took the time to review: Riska, DieHardJavaJunkie14, Mary, Ann Y. Mouse, Addicted to TV, and Branda. We really do appreciate it! Thanks for letting us know that you are enjoying the direction of the storylines!_


	6. A Plot’s Afoot

**A Plot's Afoot**

Jackson's new red pick-up rolled up behind the Dragonfly Inn**. S**hifting into park, he gazed to his right, fixing his wife with a worried look. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?

"What?" she asked innocently. "If anyone sees me, I'm just spending some time with my loving husband, helping him deliver produce."

"No one, is going to buy that." His concern was growing by the minute.

"Sure they are," she protested. "Just as long as you don't blow it," she cautioned sternly.

He opened the door of the truck and once again voiced his apprehension. "I don't know."

Both climbed out of the truck and walked to the tailgate. "Do not mess this up!" Her voice was firm as she shook her finger at him.

"You know I can't lie well," he replied already defensive. "I sweat when I lie… profusely sweat and I turn all red."

"We've been over this. You are not lying," she reminded him in frustration. "You are just delivering the produce for the Inn. Just like you do every day."

"But I know you're out here," he protested.

"Forget I'm out here, okay." Forcibly turning him toward the door to the kitchen, Sookie gave him a not so gentle shove. "Now go! And don't be too quick about it. I want to get a good long look." Waiting for him to go inside before creeping slowly towards the Inn, she paused to hide behind a tree even though it wasn't quite big enough to conceal her. Then she quickly looked around to make sure that she hadn't been noticed and inched closer.

Inside Jackson shouldered his way through the door, his arms filled with fresh produce. Chef Andy Smith looked up from the pot he was stirring and greeted the newcomer. "Good mornin', Mr. Belleville. My, what have we here?" he asked walking over to the counter where Jackson had deposited the sturdy wooden flat. Shaking his head he turned to Jackson with a friendly smile. "I'll say it again, you grow some of the best produce I've ever seen. Yes sir, you do."

Jackson took a deep breath and tried to ignore the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. "Thank you, Chef, but like I told you the other day, please call me Jackson."

Outside, Sookie crept up to the back of the kitchen, the top of her head far below the bottom of the window ledge. She tried jumping a few times, but didn't come close to being high enough to see inside. Quickly, she began to look for something to stand on.

Chef Smith patted Jackson on the back, the larger man sending him slightly off balance. "All righty then, Jackson. You call me Andy."

Jackson pulled a green bandana out of the pocket of his overalls, mopped his face and nodded.

"Now, what do you suppose the chances are of you finding me some quality okra? I'm just dyin' to show these good Connecticut folks that southern cooking can be gourmet too."

Sookie located a couple of milk crates by the back door and stacked them under the window. Standing on top and stretching up on her tiptoes, she could just see in the open window. The first thing she heard was the word okra and she shuddered, her face a model of disgust.

"Um… okra, let me think…" Jackson stuttered and scratched his head. "I could make some calls."

Andy regarded his new friend with a look of concern. "Jackson, you okay? You look pretty flushed."

Jackson mopped his face again with the bandana. "Yeah, I think it's just hot in here. Is it hot in here?" he was getting flustered.

Sookie shifted her weight forward in an effort to hear more of what was going on. The crates began to shake.

"Sookie? Is that you?" Emily asked as she approached the back door of the Inn from the parking lot, her arms overflowing with fresh flowers.

The redhead's sudden movement at the sound of her name sent her crashing into the flower bed with a loud clatter. Several people rushed to look out the window while others came flying out the back door, including Jackson.

"Sookie! Sookie! Where are you?" he called unable to locate her.

"Over there, in the flower bed," Emily called out indicating the direction with her head.

Lorelai hurried from the direction of the stables when she heard the crash and stopped next to her mother. "What happened?"

"Sookie was standing under the kitchen window," Emily explained, "– on what I don't know. She fell off into the flower bed."

"I'm fine! It's all good!" Sookie called out to the assembled crowd as her husband helped her to her feet.

"Oh my God!" Lorelai exclaimed when she saw Sookie, splotches of dirt on her face, her jeans torn at the knee. Walking up to the pair, she reached out and extracted a chunk of rhododendron from her friend's hair as Jackson helped her out of the flower bed. "Are you sure you're okay, hon?"

"I'm fine," Sookie replied as she leaned on Jackson's arm and hobbled towards his pick-up.

"Maybe you should come inside and sit down, just to be sure," Lorelai offered.

"No, I'll be fine," Sookie answered as she reached back and rubbed her hip.

Lorelai followed them to the truck and watched as she sat down cringing. "Well, okay, but, Jackson, you call me if she's really hurt."

"I will," he agreed closing the door and walking around to the driver's side. All the time shaking his head and muttering. "I just knew something like this would happen. I just knew it."

Lorelai chuckled as she watched Jackson and Sookie drive off. She then walked back over to Emily. "Here, let me help you," she offered taking some of the flowers from her mother's hands.

"Thank you." They walked back toward the Inn. "You know Lorelai, I feel somewhat responsible," Emily confessed.

"Why?" she asked.

"Well, I just couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her. I mean … a grown woman. She was clearly unstable perched up there and I called out to her. That's when she fell."

"You said it yourself, Mom, she was already unstable. I'm sure she would have fallen anyway," Lorelai tried to reassure her mother.

"How can you be sure?" Emily asked, clearly worried.

"It's Sookie, trust me, she was going to fall before she ever even climbed up there," Lorelai answered holding the door open for her mother then following her inside.

* * *

Lorelai walked into the library to find Emily sitting on one of the sofas going over what looked like a guest list.

"Hey, Mom," Lorelai greeted her.

"Why hello, Lorelai," Emily stated, not looking up.

"What've ya got there?" she questioned cheerily.

"Oh, I'm just going over the guest list that Sylvia sent me for their anniversary party," Emily informed her, still not looking up. "I have got to try to figure out a way to get Constance Betterton off this guest list," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Lorelai asked.

"Nothing," Emily quickly responded.

"Mom, you seriously cannot be thinking what I think you're thinking. You can't just go through and edit someone's guest list."

"Oh yes, I can. I simply cannot tolerate that woman. Did you know she tried to push me down the stairs once?" asked Emily incredulously.

"Can't imagine why," Lorelai muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Emily asked, finally lifting her head up.

"Nothing," Lorelai smiled. "Seriously, Mom, you cannot do this. If the woman is on Sylvia's list then she's staying on the list and that's it. Don't forget that I can still overrule you," she stated with just a little too much glee for Emily's liking.

"Fine. She stays," Emily conceded.

"Good," Lorelai said as she started to walk away.

"I don't know what you are getting so worked up about anyway. It's not like I'm rearranging a seating chart from someone's vow renewal or anything like that," Emily said ever so nonchalantly.

Lorelai stopped dead in her tracks. "I… um…I'm sorry, but what?" Lorelai stuttered, trying to not look as uncomfortable as she felt.

"You heard exactly what I said," Emily stated.

"How did you – you never said anything. You fired the wedding planner for crying out loud!"

"There's no need to raise your voice Lorelai." Gathering her things, Emily got up off the sofa. "I have to admit it took me a couple of days but all of sudden there I was sitting on a plane to Greece when out of the blue it hit me. You did it. I mean, putting Dinky Shaw next to her ex-husband's daughter from his second marriage? That has your name written all over it."

"Mom, I-I don't know what to say. It was the night of your bachelorette party and I had had a little too much to drink-"

Emily waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine. I've come to terms with it. Actually, it was rather ingenious. I kind of wish I had thought of it myself," Emily said offhandedly.

"What?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

"Oh, that Dinky Shaw. She was always such an incredible bore. Maybe that would have livened the doorknob up a little bit."

"Mom!" Lorelai exclaimed. Her mother, Emily Gilmore, actually had a sense of humor. Who knew?

With a slight smile, Emily glanced down at her watch. "Well, I should be going. Your father will be home any minute."

"Okay. See you tomorrow," Lorelai spoke, still slightly in shock from the conversation they'd just had.

"Yes you will," Emily said turning to leave. Before she reached the door she turned back around. "Lorelai? Just one more thing."

"What's that, Mom?"

"I believe you have a certain photo in your possession from that night of me clutching a Hello Kitty pillow. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that photograph to yourself."

"Oh, you're safe, Mom. Some of my pictures got deleted from the digital camera," Lorelai replied.

"Well, that's good to know," Emily smiled before calling out "good night" as she left.

As the sound of her mother's heels clicking against the wood floor faded out, Lorelai's mind began to put the pieces together. "Oh my God," she laughed, realizing that the photos hadn't been 'accidentally' deleted at all. "Oh, she's good. She's good," Lorelai grinned.

* * *

"Come on, there have got to be more people than that, Luke," Lorelai insisted, a pad in one hand and a pen in the other as she sat in bed, the covers pulled up to her waist.

"I told you … April, Liz, TJ, Jess, and Zach," he replied, getting into bed next to her.

"But they're automatic invites. The wedding party doesn't count as guests. Besides Zach is the husband of a bridesmaid, so he doesn't count as a guest even if he weren't a groomsman."

"So, invite some more of your relatives…" Luke suggested.

"I'm trying to be serious here …" she insisted.

"So am I. Those are the only people I care about seeing at the wedding. And truth be told, it wouldn't break my heart it none of them showed up, well, all except April."

"How can you not care, Luke? It is our wedding!" Lorelai protested.

"It isn't that I don't care. I just don't need specific people to be there to watch me declare my love for you. I don't need that external validation," he explained.

"What about family members?" she asked.

Luke shook his head. "It was always me, Liz, Mom, and Dad."

"High school friends?" Lorelai suggested.

Luke shook his head again. "I was a jock. No one in that circle has real friends that you bother to keep up with after graduation."

"No one … Luke …" She persisted, hoping there would be someone he was holding back from her.

"I could go out and just pick up a couple people off the street if that would make you happy…"

"Very funny," she huffed. "I guess that means we have the space to invite my Dad's cousin Joanna and mom's cousin Gerard. They dated back when I was in high school and were supposed to get married. But Gerard caught Joanna with his roommate like two weeks before the wedding."

"Ouch," Luke hissed.

"Yeah, his roommate was named Marie," she commented nonchalantly.

"No!"

"Yes," Lorelai nodded. "They live in California now. We haven't seen Joanna in years."

"Why don't we just invite a few less guests and give everyone else some more room to mingle around without feeling crowded?" Luke suggested, picturing the inevitable blow-up that was likely to occur at a Gilmore function attended by such an illustrious trio.

"I guess that works, too … though I think Marie always had a bit of a crush on Mom."

"That's gross," Luke declared.

"Yeah, but seeing my mother squirm would be so worth it. She hasn't had anyone to put her on edge since Gran died."

"You are too evil for your own good sometimes."

"Thank you," Lorelai smiled, going over the guest list one more time before bed.

* * *

"Lorelai, you're tapping your spoon against the china," Emily chided, eyeing her daughter suspiciously. She had been acting odd all evening.

"What?" Lorelai asked, looking up.

"Your spoon," Emily spoke again.

"Ah," Lorelai stopped what she was doing, putting the spoon down against the saucer beneath her soup bowl.

"Are you all right, Lorelai?" Emily asked.

"Uh …" she looked over at Luke, hoping to get some sort of support from him, but his expression was blank. "Well, there is something that I need to tell you and Dad."

"All right," Emily sat up a bit straighter, bracing herself for whatever news her daughter was about to deliver.

"I just …"

"What is it, Lorelai?" Richard piped up, uncertain what to make of his daughter's atypical behavior. She hadn't been like this for months, not since things between the three of them had gotten considerably better.

"I should have said something to you guys weeks ago. And I know it is my own fault for not just doing it. But I was afraid of how you'd react and things have been going so well lately. I just didn't want to bring up something that might ruin that," Lorelai blabbered on.

"Lorelai," Emily injected. "Just tell us."

"O..kay," Lorelai breathed, looking from her mother to her father and finally to Luke. He smiled encouragingly. "Well, you see…" she stammered.

"Lorelai, really," Richard huffed, wishing she'd just get on with it.

"It's about Chris," Lorelai finally admitted.

"Oh," Emily breathed, looking over at her husband cautiously.

"What has he done now?" Richard asked, returning his gaze to Lorelai.

"That's just it. He hasn't done anything," she explained.

"I'm beyond confused, Lorelai," Emily sighed. "Could you start at the beginning and give us a bit more detail?"

"Chris and I aren't married," she blurted out.

"Well, of course you aren't. You got divorced months ago," Richard agreed.

"Actually, we didn't," Lorelai corrected him.

Emily and Richard both remained silent, trying to follow what Lorelai had just said. Emily was the first to speak up. "You just said that you and Chris aren't married … yet you never got divorced."

"That's right," Lorelai confirmed.

"That isn't possible, Lorelai. You can't both be divorced and yet not divorced at the same time," Richard argued.

"I don't think you're doing a good job of explaining this," Luke muttered, looking down at his plate.

"It appears that my marriage to Chris was never actually legal. When we got married in Paris, we apparently didn't follow the proper procedures for getting married in a foreign country. We just had the ceremony and came home supposedly married. Then when we got here, we didn't file anything to recognize the marriage. I guess it didn't cross our minds. I don't know," she shrugged. "So, not only was our marriage not legal in France, but it was never even recorded here. That technically means …"

"You were never actually married," Emily finished her sentence tentatively.

"I know you guys are probably upset about this. And you have every right to be…" Lorelai began, starting the explanation she had been preparing in her head for weeks.

"Why should we be upset?" Richard asked incredulously.

"Well, I know how much you guys love Chris…"

"Love him?" Richard laughed. "The boy got my sixteen year old daughter pregnant. You think I _love_ him for that?"

"But he's Rory father," Lorelai argued.

"Yes, and that's why the girl has come to me instead of him with every problem she's had since she was fifteen," Richard argued.

"The two of you have always fallen all over him…" Lorelai couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"He is Rory's father and it was the polite thing to do," Emily defended.

"Oh my God," Lorelai choked out, turning to look at her mother. "You have acted like you love Chris more than me for the past two decades!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lorelai," Emily huffed, waving her hand in the air. "The boy is weak. I'll give it to him that he is quite charming. But then I'm sure that was Francine's influence over him, certainly not Straub's." She looked to Richard, who nodded in agreement. "I never knew what you saw in him or why you wasted your time with him."

Lorelai sat still, silently taking in her parents' uncommon behavior and their unexpected reactions. "I … you … who are you people?" she finally asked.

"It was honorable of Christopher to be willing to do what we all thought back then was the right thing when you got pregnant. However, that's about the only thing he's ever been good for," Richard declared, looking to his wife who nodded in agreement.

Lorelai was still in shock, feeling as if she'd been hit over the head with a ton of bricks. This was not the reaction she had been expecting. She'd been expecting anger and shouting and accusations of disappointments and let downs.

They all remained silent, uncertain of what to say next when Lorelai's head finally snapped up. Everyone looked up at her, a bright grin spread across her face.

"If the wedding was never actually legal, then I suppose the only proper thing to do would be to return your wedding gift," she declared in utter delight.

"What are you-" Richard began.

"Wolf Girl," Lorelai reminded him. "It wouldn't be right for me to keep her."

"That came from your parents?" Luke asked incredulously, shocked that two people who seemed to have such high class taste would ever give such a horrid gift.

"Yep," Lorelai confirmed. "It would only be right for me to return it. Will one of you be home tomorrow? I'll bring it by first thing in the morning. In fact, Luke and I could go home right now and get it. I'd hate to keep it a second longer than what would be deemed polite."

"Really, Lorelai, you don't need to return it," Emily insisted.

"No, no," Lorelai persisted. "It is the right thing to do."

"But it was a gift," Emily continued.

"Yes, to celebrate a marriage that didn't actually exist. I could not in good conscience keep it any longer. Plus, I'm sure Luke wouldn't want to keep a gift that was given to Chris and me." She turned to him for confirmation, receiving a nod in return. "See, it wouldn't be right."

"It was a gift, Lorelai," Emily insisted once again.

Lorelai could tell from the worried looks on her parents' faces that they didn't want the etching either. Yet now that she'd found a way to get rid of it, she wasn't going to back down. Deciding upon a line of argument that she knew would work, she shifted slightly in her seat. "It is such a unique piece of art, Mom. Why wouldn't you and Dad want it for your extensive collection?"

"We bought it for you and Chris," Emily spoke.

"To celebrate our marriage," Lorelai added.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"To celebrate our marriage … _really_?" Lorelai asked, an accusatory tone in her voice.

"Yes," Emily repeated again, glancing over at her husband who was purposefully silent.

"You're sure you didn't buy it out of spite?" she suggested.

"What?" Emily huffed.

"To get back at me for the whole answering machine announcement…" Lorelai insinuated.

Emily stammered for a moment before responding forcefully. "We did no such thing, Lorelai."

"Of course not," Richard added, looking to his wife.

"Well, then, if it was a genuine gift, the only proper thing to do is return it," she declared.

"Lorelai – " Emily attempted to argue with her.

"Admit you bought it as revenge and I won't make you take it back," she challenged her mother.

Emily was silent, mulling over her options. "I have a DAR luncheon at noon. If you come by before eleven, I should still be home," she spoke evenly, reaching for her wine glass, avoiding eye contact with Lorelai.

"Goodbye Wolf Girl," Lorelai breathed, elated to finally have found a way to get rid of the etching without incurring her mother's wrath for disregarding another of her gifts.

"It isn't nice to gloat, Lorelai," Emily reminded her.

"What do I have to gloat about, Mom? I thought you said it was a genuine gift, no spite or revenge involved…"

"Finish your soup, Lorelai. It's getting cold."

* * *

_We know that we thank everyone for the reviews after each chapter, but we really do mean it. Thanks to DieHardJavaJunie14, Mary, Addicted to TV, Ann Y. Mous, and B. Alex Milligan! _


	7. Her Shining Moment

_**Her Shining Moment**_

Richard arrived at the Dragonfly amongst a bustle of guests and activity. The place was almost unrecognizable. An army of valets stood by outside to park the stream of cars. The foliage lining the driveway glittered with thousands of tiny lights. On the front porch were small potted trees and topiaries also filled with twinkle lights. Inside, the lobby swarmed with jacketed servers passing trays of hors d'oeuvres, champagne, and various other drinks. He stopped a passing waiter and scanned his tray. "Is one of these scotch?"

The young man nodded and indicated a glass. "McClellan, sir. Hope that's okay. A selection of others is available at the bar."

Richard smiled as he took the glass. "This is fine my good boy, just fine." After taking a sip of the scotch with a satisfying sigh, he scanned the room looking for Emily. He didn't see her but he did see the Rosenblatts and decided to get the small talk and well wishes out of the way. Navigating a path through the other guests over to them he put on an appropriate look of detached pleasantry. "Ira, Sylvia, my sincere congratulations."

Ira Rosenblatt reached out and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, Richard."

Sylvia leaned forward and accepted Richard's convivial kiss on the cheek. "Yes, thank you. Emily did an amazing job with the Inn, didn't she?" she gushed, gesturing widely at all that surrounded her.

"Yes, she did. The place is positively transformed," he agreed sincerely.

"You know, I think working has done wonders for her. She looks ten years younger and have you seen her gown?" Sylvia asked.

"Ah… no, not yet," Richard answered somewhat hesitantly.

"Well, I'll just say that you're a very lucky man Richard," Sylvia continued.

Ira nodded enthusiastically in agreement, "Very lucky indeed, my friend."

Ira received a warning look from both his wife and Richard.

"You know I should be angry that she looks so much better than I do tonight," Sylvia said with a forced laugh.

"Nonsense, darling, you are stunning," Ira countered. Fifty years of marriage had definitely taught this man a thing or two.

"Thank you, Hon." Sylvia planted a quick kiss on his lips with a loud "Mwuh," then wiped at the lipstick mark she'd left with a cocktail napkin.

Ira quirked a smile at her, "Besides, she's not Jewish," which earned him a gentle elbow in the ribs and an "Oh, you!" from Sylvia.

After politely excusing himself, Richard walked away from Ira and Sylvia with a chuckle and scanned the room once again for his wife. Hearing Sylvia's raving about Emily's appearance had piqued his interest. In a few short years they too would celebrate their golden wedding anniversary. He still counted himself incredibly lucky to be married to such a wonderful woman. It wasn't hard to believe they'd survived so many years. The hard part to understand was that she had been able to put up with him for so long. Though, he had almost lost her once or twice.

Still grasping the empty glass of scotch in his hand, Richard passed it off to a nearby waiter. He took a few steps back, looking around the room. Just as he noticed Herman Rosenfeld with his new wife standing next to the Goldsteins and their daughter, Emily breezed past them. With a polite wave of her hand, she greeted them all perfunctorily and continued on her way. Stopping a waiter with a gentle hand upon his shoulder, she whispered something in his ear that garnered a nod from him. As she circled around a table, she came into Richard's full view.

Shifting his weight, Richard watched as she glided elegantly about the room. She wasn't dressed when she left the house earlier this afternoon and he hadn't seen the gown she'd chosen to wear. It was simple black gown that reached just to the floor. The neckline laid perfectly across her collarbone and revealed just a hint of her shoulders. Even from across the room he could tell that she was wearing the pendant necklace he'd give her on their second honeymoon, a surprise he'd found one morning in Florence while walking along the Arno. Watching transfixed as Emily made her way through the maze of people, the gown gliding elegantly with her, fitted enough to accentuate her petite shape yet still able to move with her as she gracefully flowed around the room.

Finally she stopped, speaking to a woman that he recognized but couldn't place. Emily smiled politely at the woman and nodded, laughing at something she'd said. As she turned her head to look for something, their eyes met. Her polite smile widened, as did Richard's. Her eyes were bright and her face seemed to be glowing.

Emily stepped forward, her eyes at last locking on her husband's when Michel suddenly broke their gaze. Richard watched as Michel spoke animatedly and finally succeeded in dragging Emily away with him. She looked back at him sympathetically before disappearing into another room.

"Richard," boomed the familiar voice of Floyd Stiles. "Your daughter has got quite a place here. You and Emily must be proud."

"Yes," Richard answered uneasily, still finding it awkward to discuss his private life with Floyd after the Jason-Lorelai debacle.

"Care for a drink? I hear Ira sprang for the good stuff and that we might be able to wrangle a glass of Laphroaig from the bar."

"A splendid idea," Richard replied, content to down a nice glass of scotch while waiting to speak with Emily.

After sharing a drink with Floyd, he returned to watching the party from the sidelines for a while, sipping his scotch and sampling the appetizers being passed. He was particularly fond of something the young woman holding the tray had told him were asparagus puffs though no matter how many he'd eaten, he had yet to taste any asparagus. The dark haired server had mysteriously appeared at his elbow every time she had a fresh tray.

Emily had passed in and out of his field of vision numerous times over the past hour. He could tell that she was clearly busy, but none of the guests she briefly stopped to chat with seemed to notice she had anything else on her mind. She was definitely in her element. At the moment she stood in the doorway of the banquet room, conferring with Lorelai.

* * *

"Lorelai, is the chef almost ready to serve dinner?" Emily asked checking her watch.

"Fifteen more minutes," Lorelai replied. "I know he's running a bit late, but the hors d'oeuvres are holding out and it doesn't look like anyone's noticed."

Emily scanned the room looking for Sylvia. "I think we're fine. I'll let Sylvia know. Would you make sure that the next tray of shrimp makes it to the Rosenblatts first? They seem to be a particular favorite."

"On it," Lorelai replied giving a mock salute and heading for the kitchen.

Emily then made her way over to where Sylvia was holding court. The small group of women surrounding her laughed at something she'd said just as Emily walked up, giving her the opportunity to speak to her without interrupting. "We'll be ready to serve dinner in about fifteen minutes," she said quietly standing just behind Sylvia.

"That's perfect," Sylvia replied turning and drawing Emily into their circle. "Do you think there are any more of those delicious shrimp? I've lost count how many I've eaten, but I'd love just one more before dinner."

Emily smiled as she saw the approaching waiter and gestured in his direction. "Here they are now."

"Oh, Emily, you're an absolute magician," Sylvia declared as she took several shrimp from the platter.

"Just call me Houdini," Emily quipped before stepping away from the group of tittering women.

* * *

While chatting with Brennan and Dierdre Sanders, Richard saw his wife disappear again and return a few minutes later. He watched her walk around the perimeter of the room and pause to speak to one of the waitresses discretely. "If you'll excuse me, I have something I need to ask Emily. If I don't see you again, be sure to give my best to Peyton." he said patting the shorter man on the shoulder.

"Certainly, certainly," Brennan agreed. Dierdre simply nodded as she polished off her drink.

He approached Emily from behind, once again admiring the way her evening dress skimmed her figure perfectly. His eyes were drawn to the slit up the back of her left leg. He waited as the young woman she was speaking to nodded and hurried off to do whatever it was she'd been asked to do. Reaching out he placed one hand on Emily's shoulder, not wanting her to rush off herself.

A quick glance told her that the presence she'd felt behind her was indeed her husband. Emily's eyes followed his arm up to his shoulder and landed on his face, giving him a loving smile. Richard gently turned her around and drew her in front of him. "You're wearing lower heels than usual, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Emily raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him, flirting playfully. "So?"

"Soooo," he drew the word out sensuously. "I have to lean down farther than normal to do this." His kiss was slow and tender.

When they separated, Emily gazed up at him, slightly stunned. Then she quickly glanced around to see if anyone was looking their direction. "Richard," she scolded him, but there was no real admonition in her voice.

"Yes?" he questioned mischievously.

"Dinner will be served shortly. I need to make sure everything is running smoothly," Emily explained.

"Of course, my dear," Richard agreed with a grin as he wrapped an arm around her back and drew her to him for another kiss.

* * *

Lorelai stepped out of the kitchen, scanning the room for her mother. Apparently the ladies room attendant had gone on a break and left the room … well, unattended. Her mother had gone looking for her a few minutes ago yet the room was still unmanned.

"Michel," Lorelai called out, walking around a few tables, smiling politely at the guests that she passed.

He came to a stop, holding an empty plate in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Lorelai inquired. "We aren't supposed to eat during an event!"

Michel huffed indignantly. "I have done no such thing. Some woman put this plate in my hands. Apparently she thinks I am a server."

Lorelai had to contain herself from laughing at the disgusted look on Michel's face. "Have you seen my mother?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"The last time I saw her, she was in a corner making out with your father," he stated flatly, looking down at the plate in his hands as if it were going to spring to life, grow legs, and run from the room in a flurry.

"Have you seen her or not?" Lorelai sighed.

"I just told you," Michel repeated. "I saw her in a corner kissing your father."

"My mother never displays affection in public. She rarely even kisses Dad in front of Rory and me."

"Well, I doubt she was thinking about others while making out with your father," he retorted.

"Stop saying that!" Lorelai breathed. The way he laid the emphasis on making out and father were beginning to bother her.

"I am just reporting what I saw," Michel offered.

"Thanks," Lorelai mumbled, walking past him to find her mother.

* * *

As the dinner dishes were being cleared, Emily excused herself to make sure everything was on course for dessert and that the orchestra was ready to take over from the small string ensemble that had played for the cocktail and dinner hours. Smiling to herself, she realized it was the perfect excuse to avoid the perfunctory toasts by the Rosenblatt children, definitely an added perk of being a part owner. Once the dance music had begun and the coffee was being served, she headed back to her table in search of her husband.

Richard was sipping his coffee and looking out across the dance floor when he felt a brush of soft hair on his cheek and a warm breath against his ear.

"Dance with me?" Emily whispered as she leaned over the back of his chair.

Richard took a steadying breath as he worked to ignore the rising desire her husky tones had stirred then rose to his feet. "I would be delighted," he said, fixing her with a brief but charged look before leading her onto the floor and taking her in his arms. They moved seamlessly around the floor to the up tempo song. The next selection was slower and Richard pulled Emily close. His fingers gently caressed her back, brushing patterns over the soft material of her dress. He bent down and spoke quietly. "Have I told you how stunning you look tonight, my dear?"

Emily leaned back a bit to look up at him. "I don't believe you have," the sultry low tones of her voice in direct conflict with her demure smile.

"Well, then I have been remiss," he replied, then raked her body – or what he could see of it at least – with an ardent look. Even in the dim light he could see the flush creep up across her neck and into her cheeks before she looked away from him and pressed herself closer, her cheek against his vest just above his heart.

* * *

_Many thanks to those who took the time and reviewed: DieHardJavaJunkie14, Sandra, lilienprinzessin, Ann Y. Mous, Riska, Mary, swimmerluvr, B. Alex Milligan, Addicted to TV! We appreciate it!_


	8. Going At It Like Teenagers

_With this final chapter, we have reached the end of this installment. Before we get on to the story, we'd like to take a moment to thank everyone for their kind reviews and for still taking the time to read our version of how Gilmore Girls should have done Season 8. We appreciate all of the reviews. The next installment is written and in the editing stages. We expect to begin posting in about two weeks._

* * *

_**Going At It Like Teenagers**_

"Almost everyone's gone. There are just a few stragglers talking in the lobby. Sylvia and Ira are upstairs in their room. The kids and grandkids are either in their rooms or sitting in the library with a cup of coffee. And the staff is about half finished with the cleaning," Lorelai reported, stepping into the kitchen and moving to the counter where her mother stood.

"That's wonderful," she commented.

"So," Lorelai grinned, standing directly beside her mother, who was going down a list of guest names and making marks next to them.

"Yes, Lorelai?" Emily asked, looking up for a second. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Lorelai's uncommon elation but she chose to ignore it and returned her gaze to the list.

"I hear you and Dad were going at it like teenagers…" Lorelai beamed, almost squirming in delight.

Emily's hand stopped moving for a moment as she collected herself and continued with her task. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she spoke nonchalantly.

"Yeah, says the woman in a hot little black dress…"

"This is an elegant, professional gown… It is more than appropriate," Emily stated defensively.

"I'm just saying you look hot, Mom. There's nothing wrong with the fact that Dad noticed that." What was wrong was how much pleasure she derived from teasing her mother, yet it was a cheap way to amuse herself.

"And what if you father did notice it?" Emily spoke, still looking down at her paper. "Would you like to hear that we snuck into the coat room and –"

"Mom!" Lorelai interrupted, taken aback by her mother's words.

"What, Lorelai?" Emily prodded, looking up at her daughter. "Is it not as much fun to be on the receiving end?"

"I … you said … no," she finally declared.

Emily nodded and looked back down at her list once again.

"You and Dad didn't really … did you?" She couldn't help herself from asking.

Emily's hand paused again. "No. Of course not."

"Oh, Okay. Good." Lorelai took a step away from the counter.

"Not since we were much younger," Emily added, the small smile on her face hidden from Lorelai's view. She was starting to see why Lorelai enjoyed pushing the limit so often.

* * *

Emily walked through the lobby of the Dragonfly, her full length black coat unbuttoned and her leather gloves in one hand. She was surprised to find her husband sitting in one of the large wingback chairs flipping through a coffee table book of Renaissance artwork. "Richard, I didn't realize you were still here."

"Just waiting to drive you home, my dear," he said as he placed the book on the end table beside him and rose to his feet.

Emily closed the distance between them, resting her hand on his chest and looking up at him with a loving smile. "That's very sweet, but you do remember that I have my own car here?"

Richard wrapped an arm around her back. "I do, but I am still going to drive you home."

"And just how do you suggest I get back here on Monday morning?" she asked, playing with the silvery handkerchief in the breast pocket of his tuxedo.

He reached up and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, all the while keeping his gaze locked with hers. "I'll drive you."

She was powerless to resist, her only reply a slight nod of approval as he lead her out of the Inn.

* * *

"Turn here," Lorelai demanded, motioning her arm toward a dirt road that was on the right.

"What?" Luke asked, looking at her strangely, both of his hands grasping the steering wheel.

"Just do it," she instructed, "or we're going to miss the road entirely."

"All right, all right," Luke huffed, begrudgingly turning onto the dirt road. "I'm glad I didn't wash the truck today," he muttered.

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Like you ever wash the truck."

"I wash the truck!" he defended himself.

"Turning the water hose on it isn't washing the truck," she argued with a slight grin that she hid by turning her head to look out the passenger's side window.

"It's a truck, Lorelai. You don't need to spend seventy bucks to have it detailed once a month."

"I had the Jeep detailed one time. One time! And that was after Babette's cat threw up in it," she defended herself, not believing that he was still bringing that up. "You can stop here," she ordered, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" Luke looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere. It was dark and all he could see were trees.

"I'm getting out. Come on." Pushing the door open, she jumped out of the truck. "Come on," she instructed, shutting the door and walking around the truck.

"What are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere? It is eleven o'clock and we're probably trespassing."

"We aren't in the middle of nowhere. And we aren't trespassing. This is Miss Patty's field. She knows we're here."

"Okay, why are we in Miss Patty's field? Why does Patty even have a field?" Luke asked, following Lorelai as she began to walk off.

"I don't know why she has a field but we're here because the field has a pond that reflects the moonlight and it's really beautiful at night," Lorelai smiled, reaching for Luke's hand as they walked through some brush and had to bend down to get around a low hanging tree limb.

"I'm not going to ask any more questions. You're only making this worse," he complained, trying to look both at the ground and in front of him as they walked.

"You'll find out everything in just a minute…" she promised as they continued walking. "Just come with me."

Finally, they reached the end of the dirt path and came to the pond. Miss Patty was right; it was perfect. Lorelai smiled at the scene before her, grateful for Patty's assistance. There was a blanket spread on the ground a few feet from the edge of the water. On the blanket were a large picnic basket and a bucket of ice with a wine bottle chilling.

"What is this?" Luke asked as they moved closer.

"It's your birthday," Lorelai smiled, turning to him. "You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

"I just figured with everything that is going on … we'd celebrate another day."

"Not a chance," she grinned, pulling Luke forward and kissing him sweetly. Moving to sit down, Lorelai opened the picnic basket. "Oh, she got us the good stuff," Lorelai chirped happily as she looked at the croissant sandwiches that Patty had packed neatly into the basket.

"Yeah, she did," Luke added, examining the bottle of wine.

Lorelai pulled the food from the basket as Luke fidgeted with the bottle, trying to figure out the best way to open it. It appeared that they were going to need a corkscrew.

"I know that I have been busy with the Inn and my mother and planning the wedding and everything but you … and I just wanted to do something to celebrate your birthday … even if there are only forty minutes left of it."

Luke stopped fidgeting with the bottle and looked up at her. "I can't think of any better way to spend these final forty minutes than here with you," he smiled. "This is perfect."

Leaning forward, Lorelai smiled just before Luke captured her lips with his, the wine bottle still grasped in his hands.

"Save the wine for later," she grinned, taking it from his hands as she pushed herself onto her knees and pressed her body against Luke's.

"Lorelai…" he whispered, looking at her as she dropped the bottle back into the ice and slid her arms around his neck.

"We're in the middle of nowhere … isn't that what you said earlier?" she grinned, using his own words.

Luke laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Well, then, I guess we've got no excuse…"

* * *

Emily paused briefly at the full length mirror in the dressing room and gazed once again at the black gown. She'd know the moment Celine talked her into trying it on that it was lovely, but she certainly hadn't expected the number of compliments she'd garnered tonight or the particular attention she had received from Richard. She turned slightly, her eyes scanning the dress from the side then shrugged and reached up to unfasten the chain on her pendant when Richard's hands suddenly covered her own.

His large fingers delicately worked the small clasp and settled the gold necklace into her waiting hands before taking hold of her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. Emily dropped the chain somewhat carelessly onto the top of her vanity then leaned back against him with a deep sigh enjoying the feel of his lips as they traveled up her neck to just below her ear. He moved away from her slightly as his hands sought and found the small button at the back of her dress. Undoing it, he placed a soft kiss to the newly revealed skin of her back and slowly lowered the zipper.

Emily turned to face him. His arms snaked around her as she reached up to untie his bowtie then began unfastening the onyx studs on the front of his crisp white dress shirt. She concentrated on removing the studs, while Richard brought one hand up and began combing through the soft waves of her hair. He had admired the styling earlier and was very happy to find his fingers slipped easily through the silky strands enjoying the fact that in recent weeks she'd allowed it to grow a bit longer. He caught Emily under the chin and turned her face up to his and leaned down.

She allowed him a lingering kiss, but then pulled back. "Emily," he protested as she turned away from him.

"I don't want to drop these," she explained carefully placing the studs on the vanity next to her pendant.

Richard shrugged out of his shirt and sat on the low bench next to Emily to remove his shoes and socks. She smiled down at him as she placed her hand on his shoulder and slipped out of her own shoes. "I think you scandalized Lorelai tonight with your behavior."

His was puzzled. "Somehow I find it difficult to picture our daughter scandalized. What exactly did I do?"

Emily smiled amused by the memory. "I believe she referred to it as 'going at it like teenagers.'"

Richard chuckled and moved Emily to stand in front of him his hands on her hips. "I don't recall any protests from you? Why am I to blame? You're the one wearing the provocative dress," he drew his hands up her sides to her shoulders and took hold of the fabric in question, "but we can fix that." He pulled the dress from her body slowly, pausing to kiss the valley between her breasts, conveniently at eye level in his seated position, then moving lower and kissing the plain of her stomach as he allowed the dress to pool at her feet. His gaze traveled back up her body, over the thigh high stockings, where his fingers drifted immediately to the area between them and the black lace of her underwear.

She raked her fingers through his hair then down around his ear, her thumb grazing along his cheek. "Maybe it was what I told her about us and the coat room."

Richard's eyes locked onto hers. "You didn't?"

She nodded. "I did …. well I hinted anyway." They both laughed at the memory.

"Perhaps that's something that bears repeating," he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yes," she agreed in a throaty purr, "definitely."

* * *

_Thank you to DieHardJavaJunkie14, Ann Y. Mous, LorLukealways, Mary, Aleta II Anon, B. Alex Milligan, and Addicted to TV for your reviews. It's nice to know that you all are still enjoying the story. Thanks for taking the time to read! _


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